Dog Tags
by xShippyAngelx
Summary: Jack has never been a man of many words.


Dog Tags

by Shippy Angel

Sleepy blue eyes open to find rays of sun coming through the window.

Sam runs her tongue over her dry lips; tries to provide enough moisture so that she doesn't need to get up anytime soon for a glass of water. She is hugging Jack from behind and can feel the delicious way her nipples meet the warm skin of his back. After everything they have experienced last night, she hurts in all the right places and just because of him.

She thinks of how good it feels to finally surrender and knows she won't fall back asleep anymore. Yet, she closes her eyes for a second or two and inhales the now well-known scent of mint and sandalwood that she can only find in the cabin. She breathes in deeper and discovers a smell that's all Jack O'Neill surrounding her like a blanket. The chilly morning breeze moves the curtains back and forth and tickles her skin.

Sam moves to lie on her back and carefully releases her grip on Jack. She weaves her fingers through her hair, unable to prevent the thoughts from running in a thousand different directions. When will she see Cassie now, after spending so much time with her in Nevada? Is she somehow failing Janet? How can she get on a plane tonight and fly to Colorado with a no-return ticket? Shouldn't she give General Landry a heads up instead of playing along with Jack's mischievous plan? What will it feel like to go back to off-world missions after getting used to a nine-to-five schedule? Will she ever have her a family of her own? Can a marriage survive not even having daily calls? And what if she never makes it back alive?

It's not that she has never had these thoughts before.

It's just that they feel heavy – heavier than her solid sense of duty – now that she has something to come back home to.

Despite of every technique she has mastered over the years on how to tame her anxiety, she still finds herself sinking her nails into the mattress to keep herself at bay.

In the end, it's not a physical sensation that pushes the dark monsters away.

It's thoughts of Jack.

His proud gaze whenever she is speaking in a conference room. His encouragement when she doubts herself. His flirty sweet voice over the phone. His capacity to always perform well in everything he does. His strength of a warrior. His protective arms around her during movie nights or when they are outside naming constellations. His foolish frustration whenever his hockey team is losing and how he still manages to crack a smile whenever she comes by to kiss the crown of this head to calm him down. His hidden talent of giving her the best foot massages when she's reading her books. His childish perseverance to make her laugh when she least expects it or doesn't particularly want to. His firm hand at the small of her back as they leave their favorite restaurant in Downtown. His long fingers buried into her hair. His ability to know when she wants to make love so slowly and when being taken hard from behind is exactly what she needs–

"I can hear the gears turning in your head, Carter" Jack groans against the pillow, although his tone is filled with playfulness.

Sam hums and unsuccessfully tries to stifle a laugh. "Sorry, sir", she uses his honorific just to tease him, beckoning closer to kiss the space between his shoulder blades. She feels sensual the minute she sees goosebumps on his skin. The proof of how a single touch of her lips can have such an effect on the man that she has been in love with for so many years feels much better than blowing up a sun.

And when Jack turns around to meet her eyes and double-check her mood, she whispers "Heeey" so softly that her own voice sounds foreign to her ears. She speculates for a brief second if her mom ever sounded like this when she looked at Jacob and whether that was the reason why she always forgave him for not being around more often.

Sam feels her a pang in her heart and wonders if it is the destiny of daughters and sons to repeat their parents' life patterns and vicious cycles.

"Hey", Jack replies lazily, stretching out as a powerful puma. His voice is raspy and full of sleep, but his eyes are shinning with adoration and full awareness of the view of her completely naked on his bed. Well, their bed now. His hair is messy and his face is all imprinted by the wrinkles from the pillowcase.

As though just in sync as they were in the field, as though time could never change that, they sit up simultaneously.

At first, Jack looks almost innocent and oblivious to Sam's personal storm. Like the world could be falling apart right at this instant and all that matters in the happiness of having her within his reach. But soon he looks worried. He twitches his mouth at the corners and looks at her carefully, as if strategizing. Brown eyes chasing blue. Sam is divided between the all too familiar fear of being seen by somebody else and the now almost decade-old certainty that this man will only treat her right. Jack insists in figuring her out; keeps looking until he can tell what is it that's bothering her after the amazing night they've had. The last night they will have together for a while. It doesn't take long for his face to reflect a sense of understanding which Sam can immediately tell because his mouth drops into a shape of 'oh'.

"It's gonna be alright, ya know", he murmurs with a confidence that she doesn't feel but without promising more than he, or anyone else, could. She just nods, as though believing, worrying her teeth on her bottom lip. He offers his full attention in case she wants to go any deeper. But as she remains silent, he slides the pad of his thumbs across her cheeks. Jack feels frustrated with his inability with words. Because understanding Samantha Carter is not enough. He wishes that he could provide the assurance she needs; that he could be half the man she deserves. He wishes to say the words that she wants to hear. That he agreed to send her back to the SGC not because he is giving in to his superiors' orders but because they both know that's what she really loves; that he believes the world needs her more than he does. That he is just as proud of her as always and that he will make sure she gets as far in her career as she chooses and is destined to, even if it means losing her a little because she doesn't deserve any less. That, yes, he will be miserable without her and probably drive his secretary crazy because of it but he will make it through each and every day until he sees her again. That he will make it through the days if only for the possibility of seeing her again. That he will understand that she won't always be available, that he never really expected her to, but will welcome her anytime she can be there. That he will try to eat healthier and drink less coffee. That half of their bed will remain empty until she comes back. That although sex is deliciously addictive, he can survive without it for weeks and months; that he has survived years without it before. That at least now he knows what she smells and tastes like, knows how she moves and what she likes, and how such information will be of use whenever he feels like playing with himself. That she has no reason to worry about any younger intern or assistant in the Pentagon. That she is beautiful and continues to take his breath away. That way before they had a chance to be together, back in the days when all she called him was 'sir', he was already hers; dreaming of taking off her clothes and making her his until he would wake up to the reality of blue balls and sweaty, lonely bed sheets. That every morning when he is out jogging around the gardens of the West End and the air smells of cherry blossoms, all he can think about is the shampoo bottle waiting for her in their apartment in DC. That, yes, it is true that he can no longer afford to lose another person he loves and that she is the one person he loves the most in the whole world right now. But that he will find the strength to carry on.

There's so much he needs to tell her; so much she deserves to hear. But all these words remain stuck in Jack's throat because he does not know how to let them out. Every time he practices it in his head it only sounds insignificant; like they could not possibly be enough to her. So he simply sits there feeling like an idiot.

Seeing his own conflicts pass by his face, and the will to comfort her somehow, Sam smiles in return, running her fingers over his hands. Beneath his quiet exterior, she could always tell the volcano within his eyes. She understands, and somehow forgives, him. She appreciates his effort of trying to break through her walls when no one else ever did it. Not this way; nor in moments like these.

But then Jack's eyes light up as every time it did years ago when the team was lost on a strange planet and he would find a way out of the maze they were in. He looks down to his left palm, that is now hanging between them, facing the wooden ceiling. The white-gold of his wedding ring reflects the sunshine for half a minute. Jack takes it off and, as though on a mission, he reaches behind Sam's neck to fasten the clasp off her dog tag necklace. Sam feels, rather than sees, the cold band rushing down her chain until it joins the two pieces of metal that have been her military identification for years. Jack looks up to stare into Sam's eyes as if asking for permission. Although she cannot tell what for, she gives it anyway. So he holds her left hand and takes off her wedding ring. Reaching behind his own neck, he does the same he did to her: opens his necklace and lets the band fall to accompany his metal IDs.

They gaze into each other's eyes, then down at their military dog tags. Jack clasps Sam's wedding ring hanging from his collar with his left hand and whispers, "I'm not going anywhere." His eyes are dark and mysterious and so damn honest. He reaches out his right hand to hold his own wedding ring now hanging from Sam's necklace and jokes, "Bring it back to me, Carter."

Sam is laughing and crying so hard that it shakes the bed.

All the things that Jack had never been able to pronounce were finally spoken somehow.

She crawls into his lap; eases her legs around his waist. Jack sighs as he moves his big, warm hands up and down her spine, assuring her that there's no way in hell he's letting go of her. Not now, not ever. Sam lets her body melt into his, caressing his hair with the tip of her fingers, over and over, and breathing into his neck. She wishes she can go back in time and assure the younger, Captain version of herself that it was inevitably okay to, against all odds and the rules, fall in love with this almost mythical creature who is half-god, half-man. Because Jack is a walking contradiction of being clueless and completely focused on you; a mixture of intensity and simplicity. She hopes he knows she's not letting go either.

They kiss, touch and explore as though have they have never done it before and would never have a chance to do it again.

The insistent sound of two dog tags crushing against one another is overshadowed by sweet moans of joy, an occasional "Jack" and a "Please don't stop", followed by an intense "I won't stop, Sam" and a promise of "God, I'll never fucking stop".

They do stop eventually, satiated and lethargic, seeing the cabin's wooden ceiling spin in slow motion.

Their sweaty, trembling hands meet in the middle of the mattress, holding on to dear life, trusting their innate ability to communicate without words.


End file.
